Irish Pony
by givemekevinbacon
Summary: Lisa Cuddy finds herself immersed in the world of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. She just can't resist those baby blues. Featuring Abigail Flynn as a special guest! crack!fic.


A/N: This story is dedicated to my one and only Flynnosaurus Rex. As a birthday present, I promised to immortalize her into the world of PPTH. For those of you who watch(ed) NCIS, hopefully you find this utterly hilarious. For those of you who don't, well-you'll probably be confused, but hopefully you'll laugh. But most of all, I hope _you_ enjoy it, dear Pony, because my love for you knows no bounds-and crack!fic seemed like the perfect present.

**Note: This is not to be taken seriously. If you do, I will laugh at you, probably.**

Enjoy!

* * *

Abigail Flynn was having a particularly trying morning. Her M&Ms had been sorted incorrectly, she'd gotten lost three different times in the span of half an hour, and her tongue piercing had taken up the habit of falling out with absolutely no warning.

But she was on a mission.

Her curls bounced as she opened the doors to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, her bag haphazardly slung over her shoulder. She walked purposefully to what she assumed was the Nurse's station, a determined yet excitable _smirk_ on her face; she knew he loved it when she surprised him.

"Hello," she greeted, her green eyes widening devilishly. "Can you direct me to the Department of Diagnostics?"

The nurse eyed her skeptically; Flynn looked down at her badge, noting that her name was Brenda. She didn't know why, but she despised the name Brenda. It simply didn't sit well with her. But she pushed those thoughts to the side, focusing instead on what her opening line would be. Smirking to herself, she briefly considered telling him she was pregnant.

"Do you have an appointment?" the nurse asked as she typed away on her computer.

The young Irish girl shook her head, her curly locks falling in front of her face.

"I'm operating under the assumption that I simply don't need an appointment," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "Every time I visit I'm told that I'm a 'delight' to have."

Brenda nodded unconvincingly, her eyes wandering to the other side of the desk as she beckoned for someone to join them. Flynn watched as a woman in a very nice suit and extremely high-heeled shoes walked over towards them.

"This young lady says she needs to visit the Department of Diagnostics. Do you know anything about that?"

Flynn sighed as the woman scoffed and muttered something underneath her breath. She seemed annoyed at Flynn's mere presence, which did not bode well for her surprise.

"I'm Dr. Cuddy, Dean of Medicine," she said. "Are you a patient?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Flynn.

"Not in the slightest," Flynn answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I'm simply here to entertain."

Cuddy pursed her lips, her brow furrowed.

"To entertain? If this is some kind of prank, you can tell House—"

"This is not a prank," she interrupted. "I'm terribly bad at pranks, you know. Except when it comes to my friend Aaron. He's a wee bit gullible you see, and one time I convinced him that he'd subscribed to Cliff Richards Facts. Flynn may be my name, but pulling pranks is not my game."

Cuddy's eyes fixed on the young girl, perplexed by her antics.

"Who did you say you were here to see?"

"My cousin, of course," Flynn answered simply, smiling proudly at the two women.

Brenda and Cuddy exchanged knowing glances before turning their attention back to Flynn.

"I'll take you up," Cuddy said, smiling graciously at Flynn.

Flynn clapped her hands excitedly, waving goodbye to Nurse Brenda as she followed Cuddy to the elevator. As they walked, she wondered if her cousin had ever noticed how nice of a bum his boss had.

* * *

"Surprise!" Flynn burst open the office doors, not bothering to let Cuddy make her presence known; she sensed the woman had a hidden agenda, and this was, after all, _her surprise. _And even though she liked her shoes, she wasn't going to let anyone interfere with that.

Gregory House looked back and forth at his team, his eyes meeting Flynn's for a brief moment.

"You're too young to be a hooker," he said, pointing his cane at her.

"House," Cuddy hissed disapprovingly.

Chase perked his head up from the corner of the room, tilting it to the side as he closed a case file.

"Abigail?" he asked, slightly perplexed. "What are you doing here?"

Cuddy sighed as she looked at Chase.

"You're her cousin?"

"She's your cousin?" House asked, squinting his eyes at Flynn. "Different accents," he mused, redirecting his gaze towards Chase. "Still pretentious, but different."

Chase rolled his eyes.

"What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine," Flynn reassured, smiling widely. "I'm currently on holiday from school, and I fancied a visit to America. It's perfect timing, too. Mom is insisting we move house again, and I'm simply not interested in packing boxes for days on end."

"Her mom can move houses and your mom was an alcoholic?" House asked, smirking to himself. He looked over at Cuddy who was glaring disapprovingly. "Somebody got the short end of the stick."

"Ignore him," said Chase, slightly annoyed. He smiled at Flynn. "It's good to see you, Pony."

"It's good to see you too, Kangaroo."

Abigail Flynn smiled widely. Her day was starting to look up.

* * *

It took him all of twenty-two minutes before he decided to banish her form his office. Though looking back, she wasn't quite sure she blamed him. First she asked him about his leg, which seemed to really anger him; she saw him reach for his pocket and then pause, his forehead cringing as a sudden realization hit him. She didn't know what it was so she offered him a piece of gum.

Needless to say it didn't go over very well.

Currently, she was holed up in Dr. Cuddy's office—per Dr. House's instructions, of course—with her iPad placed firmly on her lap and a decorative throw pillow tucked behind her. She sighed contently, smiling as the face of Leroy Jethro Gibbs lit up her screen. She wasn't ashamed to admit the fact that she stroked his face on occasion.

She did love that Silver Fox.

He was just so _cute_. With his super blue eyes and his dumb little button downs, Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not someone you said no to—unless your name was Jennifer Shepard. But she didn't like to talk about _that. _Honestly, Flynn could barely even think about white coats or letters without having an emotional breakdown. Last year, her best friend E-Wing invited her to go to Marseille for her birthday; Flynn simply couldn't handle the emotional trauma the trip would undoubtedly bring, so she informed E-Wing that she would not be attending unless the destination was relocated.

They quickly planned a trip to Amsterdam instead.

Flynn was all settled in to the couch, pillows arranged just the way she liked and a mug of tea perched at the side table; her dear cousin Chase had offered to bring her a slice of pizza—he felt bad about the way House had treated her, but Flynn was not concerned; she knew he would warm to her antics eventually—but she quickly had to remind Chase that she vehemently _despised _pizza. She was content with her pickled onion crisps and NCIS.

She was about to press play on _Brothers and Arms_—a personal favorite of hers—when she spotted Cuddy strutting into her office, House high on her heels. They seemed to be arguing about something.

"House, you can't just tell Rachel you're going to buy her a dinosaur," she said, rolling her eyes as she thumbed through emails on her blackberry, feigning annoyance as a slight smile curved on her lips.

"I didn't tell her I was going to buy her one, I said I would take her to _see_ one. It's not my fault your daughter lacks basic comprehension skills," he groaned.

"She's two and a half years old," she said.

He rolled his eyes.

"You say that as if it's some kind of excuse."

Cuddy scoffed and began to walk over to her desk, pausing her step as she noticed Flynn resting on her couch, waving awkwardly at the pair.

"House," she said warningly, pointing her finger at Flynn and then turning her head back towards him; he seemed completely unfazed by the situation, which could only suggest he was responsible for the girl's sudden relocation.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"She was annoying me," he rationalized.

"I asked him about his leg and offered him a piece of gum," she answered mechanically. She picked up her bag of pickled onion crisps and extended it towards them. "Would either one of you fancy a pickled onion crisp? They're quite delicious."

House and Cuddy made equally appalled faces.

"Abigail…was it?" Cuddy asked, giving her a slightly forced smile.

Flynn nodded, shrugging, as she popped an onion crisp into her mouth.

"You can call me Flynn," she answered.

"Well, Flynn, I have a lot of work to do so—"

"Does your daughter like dinosaurs?" Flynn interrupted, her brow furrowed. "Because I myself am a dinosaur enthusiast. I tried to make the theme of our Prom Jurassic Park, but the other little ninnies did not go for it. They chose "Parisian Nights," which if you know me at all—which you don't of course—then you would know that that theme offends me in a _very_ personal way. Anywho, feel free to go about your business, I'm just going to curl up with Gibbs here and wait for Robert to be done for the day."

"Gibbs?" Cuddy asked questioningly, a perplexed look on her face. "As in Leroy Jethro?"

House groaned. He heard enough about that blue-eyed bastard as it was. He didn't need some doe-eyed little Irish girl barging into his hospital and making Cuddy even _more _attracted to the guy. One time she told him Gibbs had eyes that were bluer than his. He didn't speak to her for twenty minutes.

Flynn's head perked up.

"You watch NCIS?"

Cuddy shrugged and walked over to the couch, sitting down and slipping off her Louboutins. Flynn's eyes widened in amazement as she caught sight of the red soles.

"I've only seen the first two seasons," Cuddy admitted, slightly defeated. "My sister loaned them to me but hasn't given me season three yet. She's holding on to it for some reason."

Flynn's eyes widened even more, her heart quickening as she sat up and clapped her hands together. "You mean to tell me that you haven't seen season _three_? You don't know Jennifer Shepard. Oh my god. I don't even—THIS HAS TO BE RECTIFIED IMMEDIATELY. Here, come sit," ordered Flynn, patting the couch and making room for Cuddy.

House rolled his eyes.

"Don't you have non-doctery things you should be doing?" he asked, averting his gaze towards Cuddy.

"I have a few hours until my next meeting," she said, settling in to the couch and slipping out of her blazer. "I already approved your brain biopsy. Go treat your patient," she said dismissively.

House groaned.

"Fine," he said, limping towards the door. He turned his head towards Cuddy before calling out:

"But I'm taking Rachel to that dinosaur exhibit in the city!"

* * *

Two weeks later, Cuddy had seen the remainder of season three and a majority of season four. She and Flynn would hide away in her office during Cuddy's lunch break and watch as much as they could, and Cuddy, who was an excellent multi-taker, had taken up the habit of writing budget reports while Team Gibbs solved crimes in the background.

Flynn even decided to extend her trip. She told Chase it was because she was enjoying life in New Jersey, but really it was because she couldn't bear to leave Cuddy just as she was about to reach the end of season five.

Real friends don't abandon one another when watching season five of NCIS.

One night, after she'd put Rachel to sleep and checked to see if House was coming home anytime soon—he had a case so he wouldn't be back for some time—Cuddy had called Flynn and she'd come rushing over, DVDs in tow.

They were settled into the couch, about to press play, when Cuddy sighed dramatically and turned towards Flynn.

"I can't believe she wrote him a _letter_," she said, defeated. "I mean, she left him in Paris. Who does that? And that _coat. _That beautiful white coat."

"Oh don't get me started on that little minx Jennifer Shepard," sassed Flynn, shaking her head. "She can't dress herself and she can't sleep with Gibbs. I don't know what is going on in that pretty little red-head of hers."

Cuddy sighed.

"She really does have a horrible taste in clothes," Cuddy muttered as she thumbed through the DVD pack. "Okay," she said excitedly, "I'm on _Judgment Day_."

Flynn's eyes widened, her hands clenching her knees as she was stunned into silence.

"Flynn?" Cuddy asked, waving her hand in front of her face. "Are you listening to me? I said Judgment Day and you went completely silent. Like crickets."

Flynn snapped out of it, turning her head towards Cuddy with a confused look on her face.

"Crickets? I don't hear any crickets."

Cuddy shook her head.

"No, it's an idiom, it means—never mind. Are you ready to watch or not?"

Flynn let out a slight laugh.

"Ready to watch?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at Cuddy. "Oh Cuddy, you beautiful innocent little NCIS fan. You have no idea what's coming. Am I ready to watch? One is never ready to watch Judgment Day."

Cuddy gave her a nervously perplexed look; nothing could be worse than when Kate died, could it? Granted, she grew to love Ziva, and looking back, Kate was a terrible agent, but still—nothing could be more shocking than Ari Haswari shooting Kate from that rooftop.

Flynn sighed.

"Just be prepared for the heartbreak you're about to experience. You will never be the same again," she said, sighing. "You think the end of _Gone With the Wind_ is bad? You just wait, little missy. You know nothing. You're Jon Snow, and you know nothing."

Cuddy rolled her eyes and pressed play letting out a slight laugh as she turned towards Flynn and said:

"It can't be that bad."

* * *

Cuddy had never felt this way before. A tear was trickling down her cheek and she hastily rubbed it away, slightly embarrassed at the way she was acting. But Jennifer Shepard was dead, and there was a letter left on her desk that said "Dear Jethro", so all bets were off.

"I can't believe what I just watched," Cuddy muttered, her eyes wide as she stared at the credits rolling.

"I told you," Flynn said, attempting to muffle her sobs while she stuffed a pickled onion crisp into her mouth—it was the only thing getting her through the current heartbreak.

"She…_died_. Just like every other woman Gibbs has truly loved," muttered Cuddy. "And what was that weird disease she was supposedly dying from?"

"You're the doctor," Flynn sobbed, "You tell me! It haunts me to this day, I kid you not. My gravestone will read: "Here lies Flynn, not knowing what Jennifer Shepard died of killed her."

"And what about Franks?"Cuddy asked, outraged. "House walks with a _limp _and I'm almost positive he would have made it back from that damn spicket Franks was so intent on going to.

"Do you know what you should do?" Flynn asked, turning towards Cuddy with an excited look on her face as she swept her mass of curls into a bun on top of her head. "You have to ask him to diagnose Jenny. Like, make him watch episodes with you and he can figure out what she was dying from."

Cuddy sighed, a small smirk forming on her face as she calculated just how many blowjobs she was going to have to give in the oncoming months.

* * *

Cuddy sighed, pressing her cheek against his chest as his fingers draped up and down the side of her arm.

"Could be Huntington's," he said, flicking his head towards the television. "Or Cancer. It's always cancer on television. If we were all on tv, Wilson would end up dying of cancer. The entertainment industry is that unoriginal."

Cuddy let out a slight laugh at the proposed irony.

"Remind me to send an email to Flynn tomorrow," she said, yawning as her eyes fluttered closed. "I promised to skype with her sometime this week. She wants me watch something called _Game of Thrones._"

House smirked, letting out a slight laugh as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, reaching behind him and shutting off the lamp.

"The main character dies in the last episode of season one," he stated simply, settling into the pillows as he pulled her closer to him.

Cuddy groaned, burying her head into his chest and muttering:

"I'm never watching television ever again."

* * *

_Say crack again. Crack._

_Happy (super-belated) birthday, Flanerys!_

_-Alison_


End file.
